Little Helper
by Sheryl Nantus
Summary: Sometimes the worst person you want to see when sick is the best...


All Characters copyright of TenThirteen Productions and Chris Carter

All Characters copyright of TenThirteen Productions and Chris Carter. No infringement intended on any part...I like being poor, really...

Little Helper by Sheryl Martin

"Mom, I'm fine." Dana Scully stumbled from the kitchen to the couch, flopping down on the cushions. "It's only a bit of the flu..." She pulled the afghan over her mens pyjamas. "I just took the day off work and I'll be okay in a bit..." She frowned. "No, don't do that... Mother, I'm a doctor... you can't come out all this way..." A satisfied smile crossed her face. "Yes, Mom, I'll be careful... no, I understand totally... I'll call you tomorrow... bye." Dropping the cordless phone on the floor, she put her head back and sighed. Mothers...

The persistent knocking at the door went on for ten minutes before subsiding. Slowly the doorknob turned; the door carefully closed as not to make a sound... Creeping into the kitchen to plug the kettle in and to pull down the tea bags to make a big potful of...

"What!" Dana jerked upright, eyes darting around the room quickly. Her sweaty face hit the cool air with a shock as she saw...

"Mulder... get out." He pouted, holding up the teapot in one hand.

"Your mother called me. And when you left that message on the machine at work..."

"So I'm a bit under the weather. Go away." She burrowed under the covers, trying to listen for the door closing behind him. It didn't come.

"Scully, doctors are always the worst patients. And your mom was concerned..." She peeked out to see him sitting in the chair, watching her closely. "You could be really sick..."

"After killer bugs, dehydrating cruise ships, cannibalized bodies... I might just be plain old fashioned tired and sick with the flu." She threw a pillow at him. "Go. Beat it. Leave. Depart. Goodbye."

He tossed the pillow back, getting to his feet to pour the hot water into the teapot. "I don't think so... and I already hid your gun."

Dana forced herself to sit up, reaching for the mug. "Why me? Why was I cursed to spend my life working off so much bad karma... god, I sound like Melissa..." She wiped her forehead. "Must be running hot..."

"Want me to go run a hot bath for you?" She almost choked on the first mouthful. He stared at her, concerned. "I'll put in the bubble bath."

"Justifiable homicide..." Dana mumbled to herself. "I'll say I was delirious... yes, they'll believe that... after two years, I just snapped and strangled him with his own tie..."

"You want some food?" Fox walked back into the kitchen. "What have you eaten so far today?" Throwing the covers off, she stomped into the bedroom and slammed the door.

Tunneling under the thick comforter, she went to sleep; sound in the thought that eventually he would get tired and leave... or clean her house, which was as likely, given the circumstances.

They were coming for her; grinning and yelling as they dragged her out of the car and through the woods towards the examination table; Barry screaming his joy and frustration as Pfaster moved towards her with the scissors and the knives began to come down from the ceiling and she was screaming, screaming...

"Scully?" His arms were around her as she opened her eyes, gasping for breath. Her drenched body clung to him tightly as Dana tried to bring her eyes back into focus. "It was just a fever dream..." Fox whispered, looking into her face. "You're at home... you're safe."

"Yah... I'm fine." She took a deep breath, composing herself. "I must be pretty ill... what time is it?"

"Just past five. I heard you yell..." He looked over at the bedroom door. "I think I broke it." She laughed, staring at the smashed hinges. "I'll fix it."

"I don't remember locking it." Dana shook her head. "Don't worry about it. I am a pretty bad patient..."

He tousled her hair playfully. "And I'm not a very good doctor. Why do you think I went into psychiatry? Not too many people call up a shrink and complain of having a sore throat." Fox chuckled. "And the only medication I know is two aspirin and call me in the morning."

"Which doesn't get you many dates." She retorted, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

He slapped his forehead. "That's what I've been doing wrong... thanks, Scully. I better go write that down." Mulder got off the bed to leave, suddenly finding his hand being held tightly.

"Wanna help me back out to the sofa?" She grinned weakly. "I think I don't want to go back to sleep so soon..."

"Sure." Wrapping an arm around her, he half-carried her to the couch, ignoring her protests. "I just put up some instant chicken soup..."

"Mulder, do you know how old that stuff is?" Dana laughed. "Drink that and we'll both be sick..."

"Hey, read the ingredients. There's enough preservatives in this to keep us alive forever - eternally preserved."

"Always been a dream of mine to be preserved with you forever, Mulder..." Scully closed her eyes again, slipping back down. "Maybe in a X-File somewhere..." A soft smile stayed on her lips as she fell asleep again.

Turning off the heat under the soup, he sat down in the chair, watching her. "A dream of mine too, Scully..." Yawning, he reached for the tv control, tapping the mute button quickly. She was right; it was just a bit of the flu - but he didn't want to leave her too soon. A Knicks game came on the screen, making him smile. Well, whether he watched the game here or at his place didn't really matter... Glancing over quickly at the sleeping figure, he reached over, tucking the blanket in around her carefully.

"Good night, Scully." Mulder smiled. "Sweet Dreams."

Note: Yes, I finally fixed it.

And I Want To Believe…

;)


End file.
